For the past 39 months
I have and continue to witness the linguistic development of my son. From his first smile, to initial laugh, to nascent formation of sound into syllable, I watch as the amorphous interior of thought become forms I can interpret and incorporate. Now, as sentences flow from tooth and tongue, I am a front-row witness to the process by which brain waves become actions, create structures, and impact spaces exterior to the body. It is through language - whether verbal, visual, aural, or otherwise - that we experience the phenomena around us.
My experience of the world has and continues to depend on the temporal and spatial languages I was taught to communicate with. The language spoken by the map and clock form ethical frameworks of self in relation to other: “here” in relation to “there”, “now” in relation to “then,” and “us” to “them”. Yet these languages of the clock and map are themselves relics of specific moments in space-time. Imperial moments, in fact. And as a mother, teacher, and artist I have a responsibility to the generations before and after me to steward alternative ways of organizing the self in Space and Time.
Telling authentic stories - visually, verbally, aurally, or otherwisely - is the first step to building the foundation that connects - and always has - “here” to “there,” “now” to “then,” and “us” to “them”. As an artist I create environments where stories that embellish automatic narratives can live, breathe, and embalm me.